Let Go
by Dusty273
Summary: Spike has a firm ‘personal’ policy concerning inter-office romance: absolutely no fraternization. When another man suddenly invites his assistant out in front of him he has to make a decision. Detailed Summary inside.


Title: Let Go

Author: dusty273

Summary: Spike has a firm 'personal' policy concerning inter-office romance: absolutely no fraternization. When another man suddenly invites his assistant out in front of him, he has to make a decision, though. Keep playing it safe and possibly lose the best thing that could have ever happened to him in the process... or let go, break his own rule and going after what he truly wants.

Author's Note: Written for taboospuffy's first mini-challenge and as an early b-day gift for the lovely Deanna, one of my best friends, one of the most fabulous persons I've had the good luck of meeting through Spuffy-love, writer and manipper extraordinaire and the driving force behind our ever-growing community. Happy birthday, cariño! I love you! hugglesquishes

The challenge consisted on finishing a scene, the first few paragraphs were given as a prompt and they're in italics at the beginning of the story. And while this story was not submitted for voting consideration (as co-mods of the group, Deanna and I thought it would be best if it were open just for members), I still hope you all enjoy it!

Beta reader: the one and only ImbloodyEnglish. I truly don't know what I'd do without you, darling. smooches A million thanks are not enough for taking the time to edit this for me, for staying up with me until I finished it, cheering me on and for being the best sister a girl could ask for. Love you, cariño!

Disclaimer: The characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer are owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox studios. Title (and lyrics below) taken from the song "Let Go" by Paul Van Dyk (featuring Rhea Garvey) and are his property. This story is not meant to infringe upon anyone's rights, only to entertain.

Word Count: 3466/3231

Fantasy: Office Romance

Kink: After Hours Affair

Challenge: 001 Mini-Challenge

_I can't get it out of me  
It's breathing inside of me  
It's reaching inside of you  
You're feeling infected  
You're being infected  
It's just like the cold  
A kiss on your lips  
Now you're taking control_

_I feel like a criminal  
I'm falling apart  
We're leaving for Venus  
In a getaway car  
'Cause no one can save us  
There's no need to try  
I'm looking for saviors  
Before they all die_

_If you want to try and save me  
Then take my heart don't hate me  
If you feel you can't let go then let go_

**Let Go**

_Buffy Summers hated staying after work. Lately, it had become a really bad habit of hers and if something didn't give soon, she'd likely burst from the pure frustration of not getting everything done on time._

_So far, her boss had yet to catch on to the late hours she'd been keeping, and for that, Buffy was extremely grateful. She really didn't want to have to explain why she couldn't get everything done during her regular office hours, especially considering there wasn't a reasonable explanation for it. _

_Actually, that wasn't quite true. There __**was **__an explanation, a reasonable one too, she just wasn't sure her boss would buy it if she told it to him._

_What would he say if he knew her every thought was filled with a sinful fantasy of sky blue eyes, sharp, angular cheekbones and soft, pouty lips that left a trail of warm moisture from one end of her body to the other? That the thought of hot, skilled hands traveling over her bare skin left her panting with the need for release and unable to focus on anything but the dream of total, sexual fulfillment?_

_Would he want details? Would he ask for a demonstration? Or would he fire her on the spot and accuse her of being some sick, twisted pervert that shouldn't be allowed to work in a high-rise office building like his ever again?_

The latter was the more likely, considering his rule of not associating with his employees. Pity that, if you asked her.

Buffy exhaled a long, suffering sigh, shaking her head as she chastised herself for not understanding that William Pratt was completely out of reach to her while trying to focus on her work. Not that it could be helped, she'd fallen for him the first moment she gazed into those intense bluer than blue eyes and whether he was attainable or not, the heart wanted what it wanted and there was nothing else to it.

* * *

She was working late again, like she had most days during the past few weeks. And she thought she was being stealthy about it, too. However, there was very little that happened in the office that he didn't know about. Especially when it concerned her, Buffy Summers. His personal assistant and the woman he'd been unable to stop thinking of from the first moment he saw her.

He'd wondered about the reason why she had to stay at the office after hours. Was he giving her more than she could handle? No, he answered himself quickly. He knew that wasn't the case. Her work, as always, was impeccable even if a little late at times. She was the best in what she did, which was why he ultimately hired her even if that meant she'd be off limits for him. Damn bloody personal rule of not… ahem, fraternizing with his employees and all that rot. No matter if said employee turned his blood into molten lava with those longing glances she threw him whenever she thought he wasn't noticing. But he did. God help him, he did; and it was all he could do not to pull her into his office and have his wicked way with her.

He probably wouldn't have dreamed of breaking his own rule either if something hadn't happened this afternoon, something so unexpected that it made the self-control he prided himself on snap, crack under the force of his jealousy, making him leave the office in a huff before he did something he regretted. Something like carrying her into his office and showing her—and the dumb git who dared invite her out to lunch right in front of him—who she bloody belonged to.

But because of his sodding rule he couldn't do it, instead throwing them both a scathing glare and escaping to the gym to blow off some steam lest he gave into the possessiveness the petite blonde elicited in him and branded her as his. Pummeling the punching bag until it lay at his feet completely deflated worked quite well for him to rein in his anger. Of course, all the while he'd been imagining the poor bag was the face of the sodding pillock who had the nerve of invading **his** territory—and who he would make certain was either fired or transferred to the branch which was the furthest away from California. Australia might work quite nicely for him, if he couldn't find anything better. Pity they didn't have a branch in Siberia, because that'd be just neat.

When his fury abated, he came to the realization he couldn't, **wouldn't** wait until it was too fucking late and someone actually snagged Miss Buffy Summers from under his nose. To hell with his ridiculous ideas of not going after what **he **wanted just because she worked for him, especially when it was pretty obvious she wanted him as well and wouldn't reject him.

After all, rules were made to be broken, weren't they?

So, here he was, reclined against the entrance to their office and she hadn't noticed him yet. She appeared to be completely engrossed in whatever she was typing away on the computer, softly humming along to some song she was hearing on her iPod's headphones and which explained why she hadn't heard the ding of the lift when it left him on their floor. Not that he was complaining, not when it gave him the chance to observe her unabashedly.

She took his breath away. She truly did. She'd taken out the pins that generally held her glorious golden mane away from her pixie face and his fingers itched to bury inside it, to discover if it was as silky soft as it seemed. And suddenly he couldn't wait to find out. He'd waited too bloody long already.

Buffy nearly fell of her chair in surprise when out of the blue a figure materialized in front of her desk. Even more so, when she realized it was William Pratt, her boss, the man who starred in each and every one of her fantasies and who was watching her like she was his prey, intently, fixedly. She couldn't stop the gasp that escaped her mouth or the shiver that ran down her spine at the lust she could see shimmering in the deep sapphire gaze.

"Mr. P-Pratt," she stuttered, her hand flying to her chest, as she got up from the chair. "Y-you scared me. I didn't know… I mean, I d-didn't finish and I thought…"

He tilted his head and smirked in that way that drove her absurdly insane, his baby blues traveling up and down her body while she fidgeted under the heat of his stare. Her knees were threatening to buckle under her and she had to grab the back of her chair to avoid crumpling to the floor like a rag doll as he neared her.

"You thought?" he prompted her to continue as he fingered a strand of her hair, his voice husky and intimate as he invaded her personal space.

"I-I, yes," she swallowed hard, fighting to keep her eyes open as his other hand skimmed slowly up and down her arm, leaving goose bumps in its wake. "I f-fell a little… behind… with my work."

"Uh-hum, I see," he replied, grabbing her hand with his and bringing it up to place a kiss on her palm before putting it over his shoulder.

"You-you do?" She was drowning in him, the intoxicating blend of freshly showered man, aftershave and cigarettes making her dizzy as her other hand climbed up to entwine around his neck of its own volition.

"Yes." He boldly leaned down and ran his lips over her cheek and jaw, making her shudder when the tip of his tongue traced the shell of her ear, before he whispered, "You were waitin' for me."

"I… Oh _God_, waiting for you?" Her panties were positively drenched, her brain had almost turned to mush and he'd barely done anything to her. This had to be a dream. It just had to. Things like this didn't happen to her.

"Yes, waitin' for me to come to my senses an' realize you're what I bloody want," he purred, before capturing her mouth with his in a searing kiss.

And it was then that she realized this couldn't be a fantasy. Because no matter how vivid they were, there was absolutely no way she could've made justice to the velvety smoothness of his tongue as it slid over her bottom lip then slipped inside her mouth to tangle with hers. Or the way his hand would tunnel inside her hair, tilting her head to plunder into her from another angle.

His other hand coasted down her torso, teasing the underside of her breast before continuing its path towards her waist, pulling her flush to him, making her moan and squirm when she felt his hard length pressing against her belly.

"Do you want me, Buffy? Tell me," he demanded, letting go of her mouth for a few seconds to allow her to catch her breath, nibbling his way down the slender column of her throat. Suckling and nipping at her pulse point, he reveled in every little mewl, every little sound that came out of her mouth. In the way she clung to him, her hands threading into his hair, her body melting into his.

"Yes, yes," she said breathlessly, almost forcibly dragging his head up to attack his lips with hers. "I-I do."

And that was all he needed to know.

Without breaking the kiss, he swept her up into his arms and carried her into his office, depositing her on the plush sofa he had in there with utmost care, before taking a step back to admire her laying against the black fabric.

He could barely believe his golden goddess was finally here with him, that he'd fought against this so bloody long. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen from his kisses, her eyes gleaming iridescently as they followed his movements when he toed his shoes off, then slowly began unbuttoning his shirt.

She licked her lips, her eyes widening at every new glimpse of alabaster skin he revealed. Certain now she'd died and gone to Heaven because there was no way a mere mortal man could have a body like that. The strong, corded muscles of his chest gave way to a taut abdomen that would make the gods weep with envy.

His jeans hung low on his hips, and her eyes were riveted to the bulge pressing against his zipper as he unbuttoned them. She pressed her legs together, squirming slightly, her body craving friction as the fire burning inside her turned into a roaring inferno. At the rate he was going, slowly teasing her, leisurely driving her out of her mind, she was sure she'd self-combust before he was actually inside of her.

"Like what you see, love?" he asked, his fingers teasing the swelled curve of his manhood over his black denim pants.

"Oh yes," she nodded dumbly, following the movement of his hand, her tongue peeking out to wet her suddenly parched lips.

He groaned when he saw the pink appendage dart off her mouth, his dick hardening to painful proportions as he neared her, drawn to her like a moth to the flame. He pulled her up from the sofa into a passionate embrace, his tongue teasing the seam of her mouth and then spearing inside to taste her.

He didn't see it coming, never even felt her tiny hands fumble with his zipper until she encircled his cock with her fingers, tightening and relaxing her hold on him, gauging his every reaction to her ministrations. And then suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, she dropped to her knees and her moist, warm haven surrounded him.

He couldn't take his eyes off of her as her tongue studiously lapped at the drops of pre-cum gathering on the tiny slit, her hand moving harder, faster over his penis. His hands wound into her golden mane when her mouth closed around the crowned head of his member, suckling delicately on it before bobbing her head up and down, taking more and more of him with each pass until he hit the back of her throat. The image of her lips wrapped around his cock, the sensation of her tongue laving at his length, the way she swallowed around his girth, once, twice was too much for him and he was lost. Cumming hard inside her heavenly mouth while babbling over and over how bloody wonderful she was, how he wasn't going to let go of her ever again.

Unable to remain standing any longer, he fell to his knees panting and drew her into his arms.

His eyes were almost black with lust as he kissed her face, his hands mapping her body as he took her clothes off until he left her clad only in her matching black lace bra and thong. He tongued her nipples through the fabric, one first then the other, making them harden into impudent little spikes, pushing the material away to taste them unimpeded, sucking the ripe berries into his mouth, grazing them with his teeth while she cooed her approval at his actions.

Spike's fingers caressed her mound over her panties, moaning when he felt how bloody wet she was already, making him salivate at the mere thought of tasting her essence, of getting drunk on it. He made her lay back on the carpet, throwing her a wink before making her lift her hips and slowly, oh so very slowly, dragging her lace knickers down her toned legs.

The sight of her in all her splendor waiting for him to pleasure her was all it took for him to harden again. She was bloody divine. Smelled delicious, too, he thought as he brought her panties to his nose.

She mewled, too on edge, too damn close to resist any more teasing. And he knew perfectly well what he was doing to her, she was sure of it. For a second she wished she could wipe the devilish smirk he sported from his face. Just for a second, because the next he dove in and feasted on her pussy like a man starved and she couldn't think, couldn't do anything but hang on to his shoulders, writhe against him as he brought her to paradise with his mouth and fingers.

He didn't give her time to come down from her high before taking his jeans off and climbing up her body. He slid his cock to and fro over her slit, painting it with her juices, bumping her sensitized clit with the belled head of his penis, making her shudder and cling to him as he stood poised at her entrance.

Her tanned legs came to rest high around his lean hips and he was about to plunge inside when he remembered about protection, wanting to bang his head in protest at the thought of leaving her arms for even a second.

"No, don't go," she pleaded, her bottom lip jutting slightly and almost making him forget what he needed to do.

"Not goin' anywhere, love. Jus' lemme grab somethin'." He took a small square foil package out of his discarded jeans' pocket, quickly tearing it and placing the condom over his hard member before returning to her arms. "Now where were we?"

"I think you were about to ravish me, Mr. Pratt," Buffy responded coyly, batting her eyelashes at him coquettishly.

"Was I now?"

"Oh, yes, although, it might be best if I ravish you first," she said and with a twist of her hips, she turned their positions with her now straddling his hips, hovering over him.

"How'd you do that?" he asked, cocking his head to the side, unable to believe how quickly and easily she turned the tables on him.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she giggled, quickly sobering when his cock teased her dripping entrance.

"An' you're not goin' to tell me, are you?"

"Play your cards right, and I might, Mr. Pratt."

"Spike," he said out of the blue.

"Huh?"

"Tha's my name, not Mr. Pratt, or at least not at the moment. We can save that one for later if you want, though," he tucked his tongue behind his teeth, his eyes shining with mischief.

"Thought your name was Willlliiiiiiiiaaaaam," she squealed when he splayed his hands around her hips, pushing her down as he thrust into her.

He remained unmoving for a full minute, giving her time to adjust to him and giving himself some time, too, otherwise he'd most likely disgrace himself. _Bloody hell_, but she was tight, fit him like a glove she did. And then she started moving against him, up and down, then moved her hips in a figure eight pattern, her hands coming up to play with her hair, her breasts, her little walls spasming and quivering around his cock, drenching it with her essence.

"God, so tight, so bloody tight. Perfect for me. Mine, just mine. Tell me, Buffy, tell me you're mine."

Was there any doubt she was when he was so deep inside her she felt he could touch her soul? She was his, had been from the moment she saw him that first day. And now, God, now, she'd give him whatever he asked as long as he kept looking at her like that, saying things like those, moving inside her like he was now, driving her to the verge of something momentous, scorching her from the inside out, branding her as his.

"Yours, I'm yours," she conceded, lowering her head to kiss him and as she did, she suddenly found herself on her back. She blinked in confusion and he smirked, balanced on one arm to hold his weight off her, the other snaking between their bodies to rub her engorged nubbin. "Wha—"

"What can I say, love?" he panted and hissed when her muscles contracted almost painfully around him. "Guess you're not the only one who can pull off nifty tricks."

And then she could care less how he'd done it, her eyes widening with every rush of desire as he thrust harder, faster into her, her need for him mounting to almost unbearable proportions, coiling and furling as he pierced her at a new angle each time, plowing, seeking, finding that tiny fleshy button of nerves inside her and making her soar, screaming his name as she shattered in a million pieces.

The sensation of her sweet cunny squeezing his cock, strangling him triggered his own orgasm, making him roar and growl through his release.

It was a long time until they could talk, content to remain in each other's arms after Spike disposed of the condom, basking in the afterglow of their passion.

"May I… ask what brought this on?" she asked bashfully a little while later. _So I can do it again and again and again_, she added to herself. "I didn't even know you liked me."

"Oh, but I do," he turned to face her, gazing into her eyes and she gasped at the adoration swirling amidst the cerulean depths. "Ever since the moment you crossed that door for your job interview, I haven't been able to think of anyone else but you."

"Really?" He nodded and she beamed at him, giving him a peck on his lips, which quickly turned into something else. "Mmmmm, b-but th-that was four months ago, why didn't you say anything before?" They'd lost so much time already.

"I had this idiotic rule over fraternizing with employees."

She raised her eyebrow inquiringly, her heart galloping madly inside her chest as she asked, "Had?" Buffy didn't want to get her hopes up, but the way he was looking at her, holding her, was making it so difficult not to.

"Yeah."

"What changed?"

"I did. After that bloody pillock invited you to lunch today, I realized I couldn't keep away from you any longer," he all but growled, tightening his hold on her. She was **his**, dammit! His.

"You were jealous of him?" she smiled, flattered beyond measure.

"Yes, I soddin' was, am still," he pouted.

"Awww, look at that lip, gonna get it," she half-teased him, nibbling on his delectable bottom lip. "You don't need to worry about him or any other, I told you already and I meant it, I'm yours… if you want me, that is." She lowered her eyes to their linked hands, shyly adding, "F-for as… long as you want."

"Bloody forever, then." _And then some_, he thought, before capturing her lips with his in a kiss flavored with the promise of tomorrow.

The end.

End notes: Believe it or not, this was done in about 8 hours of non-stop writing, actually stayed up until I finished it. Quite a feat for me, too, since it's a first in many ways. First one-shot I write, first story I can actually finish in one day and my first PWP, since with the other ones I tried, plot got in the way. I really hope you enjoyed it and that you'll let me know what you thought of it. (bats eyelashes)


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